The Family
by ShootingStar96
Summary: The Family is the most lethal gang in the world, topping every list of Most Wanted. Tris -known as Six - is the daughter of the leader and heir of the gang. She is a lethal secret weapon, unknown to the outside world. And she must train the new recruits - one being the criminal Four, while training herself to take over the gang and hunt down the man who killed her mother.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own anything, just my ideas!

**Chapter 1**

FOUR

The first thing I recognize when I wake up is the smell. Sweat, dust, and sharpened metal. I have spent many hours working in places with that smell to make me the best. And what I'm the best at is being a criminal. The best one.

Being the best, though, isn't enough. It isn't enough because I don't know where I am, or how I got here.

I look all around me. I lay on a stiff cot, one of ten in a row along a wall. And there are another set of ten on the other wall. A person occupies each cot. No windows, one door. The room can't be any bigger than 600 square feet, and with 19 other people, it feels like I am suffocating.

Breathe, Four, breath... I suck in the sweat and dust and it relaxes my nerves. I rest my head back down and think back to the last thing I remember. Sirens, I remember hearing sirens running along the wind while I was driving off from a... a robbery. A robbery that went wrong. I guess that is what happens when you trust someone with a job you should be doing yourself.

The cops were on my tail, but I was fast. And smart. I had just figured out a route out of the mess when there was a loud _BOOM_; everything went bright, then black. Then I woke up here. So what happened?

The single door opens, bringing a bright light and a deep voice with it. "Everybody up!" A deep voice yells.

Everyone else, whether they were awake or asleep, all jump up. There are a variety of people in this room with me. The ages of people seem to range from mid-30 to teenagers. And the size difference is from pro boxer to a stealthy fox. Either way, we are all here and all very confused.

"I'm not going to wait all day! Follow me." The man attached to the voice says. Now that my eyes have adjusted to the light, I can see the man with the low voice has a large statue.

We all file out of the room and right out is a much larger. Much, much larger. And it holds everything from targets to weights to running machines. An exquisite training room. But the question that beckons is, what kind of training?

The man who called us out of the room stands in front of us and wears athletic shorts and a sleeveless black shirt that shows his muscles. He doesn't say anything, just stares holes through every single one of us. Each of us getting our special turn.

I hear the door behind us, not the one we came from, open and close, and stealth foot steps trace through the small crowd to the front. The person is small, and they have blonde hair.

"I don't have all day, so get out of the way!" Yells the blonde.

She's obviously a girl based on her voice and her hair. It is tightly braided in three small sections and all brought to the back of her head. Three braids are held together in the back with a piece of elastic. She wears skin tight black leggings, and a black baggy long sleeve shirt. While she is small, an ora of intimidation radiates from her.

Even through the baggy long sleeve, I can see her shoulders are back and toned muscles run along her body. She stands at the balls of her feet, ready to pounce at any given second. I already make a note to not underestimate her.

When she gets to the front, she turns to the other man and whispers something to him. They both laugh softly. Then she turns and faces the rest of us.

"Welcome," she says, her voice lower than a normal girl's, "to the first day of the rest of your life. You were all dead, but we, gracefully, have given you all the gift of life... And never forget we can take it away just as easy."

Ever since I woke up only a few minutes ago, I was simply living in the moment and taking in enough to survive, but now the questions begin to flood into my head. I must not be the only one, because as I look around, other people hold confusion on their faces, too.

"You all must have a lot of questions, and you will get _some_ answers. But you'll mostly get lessons. Lesson number one: Never ask question, ever. If you need to know something, you will be told. Everything else, well, there is a reason you don't know them."

No questions. Well, I'm fucked.

"Today is going to be full of lessons, and maybe we will tell you what you want to know. And if you don't like that, then you can go back to being dead."

No one says anything and no one moves.

"I am sure you all are confused and have a few questions, so let me clear a few things up. We," she nods to the man next to her, "are The Family. And you are our new recruits to be adopted."

Something clicks in my mind; at least there is something that kind of makes sense. The Family is what it sounds like, a family. But they aren't a normal kind to gather on holidays and crack jokes. No, they mean business. From drugs to weapons, they own every black market there is. But what they are most famous for is assassinations.

The Family is the gang of all gangs, making the top spot on every Most Wanted list. In charge of The Family is The Grandfather, who is the eldest male in the family, and rumor says that the position is always passed down to the eldest son of The Grandfather.

And they adopt to make their family stronger and larger. It's more like they take over smaller rival gangs. And then there are people like the twenty in this room, those who have the skills to benefit The Family. I have heard hundreds of horror stories of their skills, of their training, and of their conquest.

But for the longest time, they were all only rumors. Tall tales that were spoken in every city and grew with every new pair of ears that heard. I never thought I would encounter them, but here I am.

"By the look of some of your faces, you know what we're talking about. For those of you who don't, here's all you need to know... We are a gang, a powerful one, and we have chosen you to possibly be adopted. Right now, you're all foster children.

"I'm Six, and this is Harrison," she points to herself then nods to the man next to her. "We will be training and evaluating you."

There are a few laughs, mostly from the brawny men. They are making the mistake of underestimating her.

She moves through the crowd to them. "Is there a joke I didn't hear?"

They don't say a word, nor do they move. Six brings her leg up and knocks one of them off balance. She then uses her elbow to nail him completely off and he falls to the ground. Six lands on him and strategically places her weight on him to keep him from getting up. She pulls a knife from a strap on her arm that was concealed by her sleeve and places it inches from his face.

"Lesson number two, never - and I mean never - underestimate anyone. Especially me." She says so softly it is dangerous. She slips the knife back up her sleeve and into some kind of strap along the forearm.

Six gets up off of the man and walks back to her place next to Harrison like nothing had just happened. While she maneuvers through the crowd, Harrison tries to hold a laugh in, and he surprisingly keeps it in well. His look, however, turns stern as he directs his attention back to the crowd of twenty.

"Everyone get in a line, now!"

We all comply and get in a horizontal line. Harrison grabs a large bad and Six pulls the long sleeve off. Underneath is tank top, but what is most surprising are the tattoos all along her body. On both arms are straps with knives hooked in.

Six and Harrison grab a large laundry bag and start handing out smaller bags to everyone in the line. When they get to me, Six throws a small duffle in my hands without even looking at me. On it, in wicked black print is _Four_. Inside is a bag of work-out clothes.

How they knew my nickname and size sends an uneasy feeling through me.

Once everyone gets a bag, the two instructors go back to their spots in front of us. "Training starts in ten minutes," Six says, "Training will consist of two parts. One part physical, the other mental. You will learn to fight and to kill, perfectly."

Harrison steps up, "We will teach you how to kill with a gun, a knife, your shoelaces, even your fingernails. And if you can't deliver, we will kill you."

Six says, "If you survive that, you will learn the mental aspects of being a killer. You will learn to withstand body numbing pain, how to create poisons, and carry out missions. Anyone can train to kill, the useful ones are smart. And you have to be smart to survive in this world."

Suddenly, Six looks down to her buzzing watch. She gets an unreadable look on her face and turns to Harrison and starts to unravel a combination of numbers.

He simply nods to her and she turns back to us. "I have to go, but Harrison will get you started. And we will see who makes it past the first day."

She turns to walk away, but spins around and I see both of the knives are in her hands. She sends them flying to the targets behind us, nearly hitting a person or two.

"Lesson number three... Never let your guard down."

She stalks to the door and opens it. Right as she is about to leave, she turns to face the rest of us. "Oh, by the way," she says, "welcome to The Family."

* * *

**A/N: This idea came to me, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I have a back story planned, but not that much of where it is going... So we'll see. Let me know if you liked it! Please review!**

**Be brave, everyone!**


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own anything, just my ideas!

**Chapter 2**

SIX

I am not a monster. Monsters run wild with no real purpose, and they are full of destruction. While I may leave a blossom of chaos in my wake, it is never a mess.

What I do, it betters the world. Or at least that is what I tell myself to get me through the day. That, and the vengeful spirit that runs through my veins. The vengeance comes from a memory so far in the past, the details tend to get weak. But every day, since I was a child, I've been training to hunt _him_ down and kill him. Kill him and anyone other bastard who was associated with her - my mother's - death.

And a part of that training are these easy missions. Well, for anyone else they would be considered hard, but I am the best assassin in The Family, specially trained by my grandpa and my father. The Grandfather, and The Grandfather before him. And someday, that position will be mine.

My target looms through the streets, his walk shining with swagger as he marches down thinking he is untouchable. He hasn't faced me yet. He normally has others around him, but not tonight. He is alone. And that is not a coincidence. Every night, at this time, he goes to the back of his club and gets high.

He doesn't like to do it in the club, which is understandable. I've been in there - to stalk my targets - and it can be chaotic in there. And getting that peaceful shot of drugs should be quiet and soothing.

But what he doesn't know is that in his normal shot of heroine is now a paralyzer of my own creation. I was always a whiz at chemistry.

In moments, he is on the ground not moving. I jump from my hiding spot and rush to him. The dirty bastard. We were hired outside of The Family for this hit, but we benefit from his unfortunate death too. His club is a strip club, and his girls are disrupting some short-tempered drug dealers.

I am not a fan of prostitution, but in this game of life - one that most do not know about or let themselves know about - I am not one to judge. Or spend much time thinking about it. There is only so much time until his guards come looking for him.

I take the gun attached to my hip and place it in my hand, the power in the metal death machine equalling myself. His body is dead, but his eyes aren't. I pull the trigger and end his life with a small moment of movement.

I take the knife hidden around my ankle and carve my mark into his arm. A flame. Quickly, though, because I hear movement on the other side of the door.

I take my leave and run through the dead of night, it's darkness concealing me.

* * *

"You're late," my father tells me as I walk into his master bedroom.

"Sorry, he took longer to come outside than I expected."

"So it is done."

"Done, father... Eer, Grandfather,' I say. It's been long enough since The Grandfather, my real grandfather, has been gone, but I still have trouble calling my father his title.

"It is only us, Tris. And it is our weekly dinner, so come sit down with your father and enjoy a meal."

Every week, we have a family dinner. Not with the other members, just the two of us. Family values are very important here, even though a gang full of criminals and killers. We are still a family.

"I assume tonight had no difficulties," he says.

"Of course not, you and Grandfather trained me well."

He chuckles, "I wouldn't expect anything less."

We eat our meal. There is a fire blazing in the fire place; even though it is summer, we both love the bending of flames. It soothes the two of us, and it reminds us of _her_. But for different reasons.

"We have a new group of Fosters," he says. "They are getting transferred to one of the houses right now."

"Did the transition go well?" When we get new Fosters, we have to erase their past. We fake their death, and steal them from the real world. They become ours for whatever we want, each having a special skill we find useful. And we don't pick them off randomly from the street. We recruit them, watch and get every detail of their lives.

"One was a little bit of trouble with the past, but," he smiles, "we're the best."

I laugh a little. He continues, "I want you to train them."

"I thought uncle Harrison did that."

"I want you their too. You are the best we have, and you've been specially trained by both myself and your grandfather. Once you're done with them..."

We both smile, turning to the fire burning in the pit. I speak, "I'm having the dreams again... about her. My mom."

He is silence for a little bit, the memory of his one and only love roaming his thoughts. "That's normal. It happens every year around this time."

"I know, I just thought that we could... maybe talk abo-"

"No," he says abruptly. "Why don't you go to your room. You have training in the morning and I have some business to take care of right now."

"Business? Something you can't tell me?"

"No, Six." I shutter, him using my nickname from The Family instead of my name.

"Okay, I'll go then." I walk out of his room, but I don't go to my own. I go outside and run. I run till my legs burn like the fire in his room and my shirt is soaked with sweat. Then I run some more.

* * *

The walls in my room are bare, but that is not by choice. The less there is to clean up, the easier and faster we can leave in case we have to. But I still break some of those rules.

I have a small part of the wall next to my bed that is dedicated to photos. My parents - young - smiling in each others arms. My baby photo, right next to one with my mother holding me. The few rare happy memories take residence on the small piece of wall.

I walk over to the single mirror in the room and begin to brush my long blond hair. I should cut it soon, because long hair just gets in the way. But I can't bring myself to do it. So, I take it into three sections; one on top and one on each side of my head. I tightly dutch braid each section and collect the three ends in a piece of elastic in the back of my head.

I move to my dresser to get ready for training. But it isn't my training; it's the new recruits. I know why my father wanted me to train them, but I don't see the point in wasting my time. But then, no one else can make them the best they can possibly be. No one, besides my father, has a higher standard.

I pull out tight black pants and a black tank. Then I turn to the closet, my special one. I open the two doors, and along perimeter of the closet and doors are high quality guns, my own personal collection. I open up my knife compartments choose two simple, yet effective, blades. I grab my arm straps and tuck them in.

You can never be too prepared.

Right before I leave my room, I throw on a baggy long sleeve. The element of surprise is crucial. And I don't want them to see my tattooed body right away.

I walk out of The House, the main headquarters of The Family, and to the garage. Inside, I have my pick of transportation - cars, motorcycles, trucks - anything and everything I could possibly need. I chose my best weapon... myself. I don't need a fancy piece of machinery to get me where I need to be. And I love to run.

I'm careful. My route is never the same, and I strategically weave my way through streets that I know have our business. And the ones that we own. I alternate between running and walking, tracing my way to one of our foster homes where the newest recruits will be waking up any second now.

Eventually I get to the foster house and walk in. It is a one story building, but the basement is connected to the house next door. It's main and only purpose is to train Fosters. I creep down the stairs and open the steel door. Their backs are the first things I see. I try to make my way to the front, but no one will move.

"I don't have all day, so get out of the way!" I yell at a muscular back. It doesn't intimidate me, only annoys me. Just another big man who can pick things up and put them down.

My voice has power, I know it, and the crowd parts for me. I hold my head high like I am better than them, because I am. When I get to the front next to Harrison, I turn to him and whisper, "Ready to kick their asses?"

We both laugh a little, knowing they are in for hell. Then we turn to face them.

"Welcome, to the first day of the rest of your life. You were all dead, but we, gracefully, have given you all the gift of life... And never forget we can take it away just as easy." And it's true. Technically, they are all dead now to the outside world.

"You all must have a lot of questions, and you will get _some_ answers. But you'll mostly get lessons. Lesson number one: Never ask question, ever. If you need to know something, you will be told. Everything else, well, there is a reason you don't know them.

"Today is going to be full of lessons, and maybe we will tell you what you want to know. And if you don't like that, then you can go back to being dead."

No one says anything and no one moves.

"I am sure you all are confused and have a few questions, so let me clear a few things up. We," I nod to Harrison next to me, "are The Family. And you are our new recruits to be adopted."

Almost half of the people in the room get a relieved look on their face, probably glad that they finally recognize something. But then their faces harden because they see they are now trapped in our web.

"By the look of some of your faces, you know what we're talking about. For those of you who don't, here's all you need to know... We are a gang, a powerful one, and we have chosen you to possibly be adopted. Right now, you're foster children.

"I'm Six, and this is Harrison. We will be training and evaluating you."

There are a few laughs, mostly from the brawny men. Big men thinking they are tough. Normally with new recruits I don't have to scare them this soon. It takes until the first or second training session, but it looks like I have to do it now.

I walk up to the biggest one and get right in his face. "Is there a joke I didn't hear?"

They don't say a word, nor do they move. I bring my leg up and knock him off balance. I naturally have a smaller frame, but that is a weapon I use to my advantage. I am fast, and I use the power in my elbows and knees to the fullest extent.

In seconds, he is on the ground. I land on him and strategically place my weight on him to keep him from getting up. Both feet pinning his two hands, my torso on his middle chest keeping him down. I pull a knife from one of the straps on my arm and place it inches from his face.

"Lesson number two, never - and I mean never - underestimate anyone. Especially me." I say so softly it is dangerous. There are times to yell and intimidate people with power. But being quiet is even more powerful. All the energy of something big, tightly bundled in a quiet whisper. Deadly.

I slips the knife back in the strap, get off the man, and walk back to my place next to Harrison like nothing had just happened. I push down the excitement rushing through my veins, the same excitement I get whenever I get the jump on someone. Especially someone bigger than me.

"Everyone get in a line, now!" I yell.

They scurry like scared ants and Harrison grabs the large bag full of their training outfits. I take off my long sleeve, no longer needing to hide. But that doesn't mean I don't have anymore tricks up my sleeve. I throw each bag at the specific person, not giving any of them a second thought.

When all the bags are passed out, Harrison and I take our places in front of the group. "Training will consist of two parts," I say. "One part physical, the other mental. You will learn to fight and to kill, perfectly."

Harrison steps up, "We will teach you how to kill with a gun, a knife, your shoelaces, even your fingernails. And if you can't deliver, we will kill you."

I say, "If you survive that, you will learn the mental aspects of being a killer. You will learn to withstand body numbing pain, how to create poisons, and carry out missions. Anyone can train to kill, the useful ones are smart. And you have to be smart to survive in this world."

My watch buzzes, and I look down to the message on the little pad. A new mission. It must be important or difficult, because Grandfather wouldn't assign it to me when he wants me to train the Fosters now.

I spit out a combination of numbers to Harrison. It's a code that only the immediate family knows, and now Harrison knows that I have a mission, I won't be back until the next day's training, and to kick their ass while I'm gone.

He simply nods and I turn my attention back to the fosters. "I have to go, but Harrison will get you started. And we will see who makes it past the first day."

I turn to walk away, but I want to leave them with fear in the memory with me. So I clench both knives in my hands and spin around to them. Everything slows as I send them flying to the targets behind them, nearly hitting a person or two. Too bad.

"Lesson number three... Never let your guard down." I stalk to the door, but I turn my head to face them. "Oh, by the way... Welcome to The Family."

I leave, my new target mere hours away from their death.

* * *

**A/N: This story has gotten such a good response, thank you so much! Someone asked if Tris' POV would be used... and I think that question has been answered. I hope you liked it! Please review! I am slowly getting an idea of what's going to happen, but defiantly open to suggestions!**

**Be brave, everyone!**


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own anything, just my ideas!

**Chapter 3**

FOUR

_"I have no choice other than to declare this case a mistrial," the judge says with a disappointed look on his face. He turns his head to face me, his eyes shoot me down. I simply stare at him with the smallest form of a smirk. "Mr. Eaton, you are dismissed." _

_I shake hands with my attorney and walk out the court doors. The walk through the halls, pass the doors, and down the steps is a familiar one. Four, that's the number of times I've had charges pressed against me. And my fourth time without being convicted. _

_No one can nail me down. No one can catch me. No one can stop me. _

* * *

The sound of clanging metal wakes me from my sleep. I turn my head and see Six standing at the door with a metal pipe.

"Rise and shine, Fosters," she says. "You have five minutes to get dressed and report for training."

I internally moan, and the guy laying on the cot next to me buries his head in his pillow. Or at least an excuse for a pillow; not exactly the Hilton hotel here. Not to mention a pesky fly. It buzzes next to my ear, then flies next to the guy still laying down next to me.

"Get your ass up. You don't want to deal with what will happen if you're late," I tell him. I don't care about him, really, but if one of us is out of line we all might get in trouble.

"I didn't know my mom was here," he replies.

"Just trying to get through the day with as little pain as I can," I say with a roll of my eyes.

He smirks at me and reaches out his hand. "Name's Zeke."

"Four."

"The number?" I give him a look; he doesn't push on but asks, "What do you think they will make us do today?"

I sit up in my spot, trying to not strain the muscles that were worked so hard yesterday. After Six left, Harrison had us do running and lifting and rowing and every other form of physical exercise. I work out on my own pretty rigorously, but yesterday was madness.

"After yesterday's workout, it will probably something fundamental. Everyone here survived the physical training, now they will probably make us do shooting guns or throwing knives or who knows what."

"I can't imagine how bad it's gonna be. Especially since Six is here today; she's a god damn maniac."

"A maniac who is good with a knife."

"Why do you think her name is Six. I doubt someone would actually name their child _Six_."

I give him another look. "I'm sure she has her reasons."

"Like you?"

Before I can respond, the door opens again and this time it's Harrison who walks in. "Let's go," he yells, then he throws several large bags into the center of the room. "You're gonna needs these."

We all scramble to the bad and inside are smaller bags with our names on them, like our clothes bags. Inside is a box with multiple guns. Guns; I can do this. I know guns.

_Buzz... Buzz_

That stupid fly better not get near me. I need full concentration when I fire guns.

Everyone grabs their bag and walks out of the room. In the training room, Six stands on top a table with an array of guns sprawled across it. Harrison, who was behind us, moves to the table. Six crouches down and he whispers something into her ear. She nods her head and whispers something back.

Harrison then walks away to the back of the crowd of twenty people. Six jumps off the table, and once she is on the ground, she picks up a gun from the table.

_Buzz... Buzz_

"Today, right now, is dedicated to shooting guns. I assume we know how to load and fire one, correct?"

People nod their heads, which is good enough for her because she continues, "Over there are twenty targets. You all will fire and when the light above the target blinks, you have passed. Like this."

She walks over to one of the targets. It is a rectangle the distance of the lower stomach to the top of a head. There are circles on it, each smaller and smaller till there is only a dot. Or at least it is small enough to be a dot. Six plants her feet and brings the gun up. Her eyes center on the target, and I swear, not a single muscle even twitches.

The room is so silent, I can hear the movement of her arm as she pulls the trigger. The once silent room explodes with gunfire. Every bullet hits the target, and not only do the hit the target, they hit the center every time. It only takes a few seconds for the light above the target to light up.

_Buzz... Buzz_

Six breaks from her deadly concentration and turns around, her gun still up. Her eyes search for only a moment, then they focus again. A single shot is fired and the buzzing stops. Six walks over to the other side of the room and picks up the fly.

She holds it in her hand and says, "After we're done with you, and if you survive that, you all will be good enough to shoot the wings off of a fly... Like this."

She holds up the fly so we all can see its squirming legs and lack of wings.

Harrison, who is still in the back, says, "You all will shoot at the targets until you see your light turn on. And don't be the last one!"

We all scatter to targets and Six walks over to her target and removes the paper on top and replaces it with a new target sheet. I take a spot in between Zeke and another guy. The guy is pretty large, but the look in his eyes says he's not all that comfortable with any of this. I mean, who is?

It doesn't take me long to get a good handle on the 9 mm in my hands. And it takes less time for me to find the inner parts of the target. But my light won't turn on. I'm not hitting dead center like Six did, but I'm right there.

They must want pure precision and only the best. I guess the goal is to shoot the wings off of a fly. I make my stance firmer and hold my gun with more power, more command.

Focus on the center. Only the center.

Then a light goes on off on the other side of the room. Harrison moves over to that person. It's one of the smaller guys, and he can't be older than sixteen. Harrison says, "Good job, now go over to the weights and start lifting."

How did that little shrimp get it before me? I've been shooting guns for years, I am the best shot in my neighborhood. I scan the rest of the room, looking at the varying targets. Some are like mine... good, but not good enough. Others, like the guy next to me, are having trouble getting close to the center.

I can't worry about the others, I need to focus on mine. Only mine. The circles are getting closer together and it feels like the target is getting further away. I hold up the gun, and I am about to pull the trigger when I hear a click next to my head.

Six stands next to me, a revolver in her hand held up against my head. I try to turn my head, but she presses the gun to my skull. She says, "Shoot the target."

"What?"

"Shoot the target."

"Right now?"

"Or I could shoot you. It's not that hard. Now, hold up your gun and shoot the target."

What the hell is she doing? How am I supposed to shoot the target when she is right here hanging my life in an inch of movement. I notice around me the others have stopped shooting and are now watching me.

I pull my gun up and fire it at my target. I miss, pretty bad. It's the furthest shot from the middle.

"Your mind is too busy; you're not focusing," she tells me.

"How am I supposed to focus when you have a gun to my head?!"

She stares daggers at me. "You learn to focus. And you just do it."

Her voice gets louder, addressing the whole group. "Our job is our target. Nothing else matters. So you focus everything out except for that target. In The Family, we learn through practice and application. We don't baby you and hold your hand." She turns back to me, bringing the gun to my head, "Now, shoot the target."

I hold the gun up, but I can't pull the trigger. I can't focus. I feel Six get closer to me, her mouth against my ear. "Breathing. Focus on your breathing."

Her voice didn't have the venom in it, nor did it have fire. I listen the advise and focus on my breathing.

Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Steady the gun. Breath out. Breath in. Pull the trigger. Breath out.

My bullet hits the target, almost dead in the center. I keep on breathing, bring my mind to a focus. After a few shots, my light goes on and the gun to my head falls.

"Not bad. Your mind is too busy... Too many thoughts running rapid," Six says. "But don't worry, we'll fix that."

"Who says I need to be fixed?"

She comes up closer. I know I am testing her, and I might have a death wish, but it feel almost right challenging her.

She says, "You think you're good, don't you? You think you are the shit. Well I'm here to tell you that you are pretty good. But we are better. And we are going to make you lethal. But don't forget," her voice is low, "we _own_ you."

* * *

**A/N: I wanted to update this story at some point over my spring break. Hope you guys liked it! I love to hear all of your thoughts. Please review!**

**Be brave, everyone!**


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